


The Girl at the Rock Show

by TheAshla (cannedpeaches)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Rated T for language, just an excuse for fun banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 05:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13475052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannedpeaches/pseuds/TheAshla
Summary: She grinned at him and he ceased whatever was left of his higher brain functions. “Thanks,” she said, moving away and melting into the crowd.“Aw, man,” Kanan breathed as he fruitlessly searched the throng for her. It was all he could do not to follow.--Or, Kanan is a bouncer at a concert venue, and Hera's here to listen to some very bad pop music.





	The Girl at the Rock Show

**Author's Note:**

> I was putting together a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/doublexstrike/playlist/0BE8swBZvIwds0fjWeZTzT) of songs that I thought Kanan would be into if he lived in our universe, and this story idea just popped into my head. Nonsensical AU where Order 66 never happened, the Republic still stands, and Kanan ... dropped out of Jedi school, I guess? Whatever, just enjoy the ride.

Kanan Jarrus was hungover. He was trying to make it less of a habit as he got older--no, really, he was!--but it had been an unexpectedly long shift last night when the indie band that had been playing decided to perform a surprise extended set, and then some kids near the stage had gotten rowdy, and then he’d seriously needed a drink…

 

Kanan scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. He was posted at the front door of The Supernova, the most storied concert venue on this side of Eufornis Major, where he had been working security for the past three years. It wasn’t a bad job, when he wasn’t nursing a pounding headache: He got to listen to live music, he got free tickets when he wanted to impress a girl, and he got free beer (okay, maybe the free beer on the job wasn’t strictly _allowed_ , but no one had told him not to drink, either). But tonight, some washed-up pop band from ten years ago was playing a sold-out house, and every patron was trying their hardest, it seemed, to be extra annoying.

 

Kanan swallowed a sigh as yet another group of giggling university girls walked up to have their tickets inspected and scandocs checked. One of the girls, a willowy Mirialan, planted her hand flat on the table he stood at, presenting it for a stamp that would tell The Supernova’s bartenders that she was legal to drink.

 

“Scandocs first,” Kanan drawled, raising an eyebrow at her.

 

She bit her lip and handed them over. Kanan even didn’t have to look at them closely to have his suspicions confirmed.

 

“Counterfeit,” he said to her, shaking his head and marking her hand with a fat, black X.

 

“They are not!” she protested, snatching her hand back as if he had slapped it.

 

“They _are_ ,” Kanan said. “And if you want me to forget they’re fake and let you in tonight, you’ll drop it.”

 

The girl pouted, but stepped back and said nothing more.

 

“Next,” Kanan said, not bothering to hide his sigh this time.

 

“Sorry about my friend. I told her it was a bad idea.”

 

_Holy shit._

 

The voice was melodious with just the right amount of rasp, commanding but not ostentatious, with a slight lilt that send a spark of electricity up and down Kanan’s spine. Kanan looked down just a bit and found himself blinking at a green-skinned Twi’lek girl with a heart-shaped face and large eyes. Which were currently looking at him with curiosity, her head tilted to one side. _Kriff._ He probably looked as brainless as a tauntaun right now.

 

Kanan cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, sounding hoarse to his own ears. “Haven’t had a shift yet where I didn’t have to weed out a few fakes.”

 

One corner of the girl’s mouth twisted upward. “Well, mine are real,” she said, handing her scandocs to him.

 

He barely glanced at them, his gaze sticking as soon as it hit her name, Hera--

 

“Syndulla?” He looked up at her, then back at her scandocs, then at her again. He ran a hand over his hair, blood pounding in his ears. There was a senator’s daughter in The Supernova, with absolutely no outside security in sight, and worst of all, she was _gorgeous_.

 

The girl--Hera--leaned toward him, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Don’t tell anyone,” she said as she planted her hand on the table.

 

Numbly, Kanan nodded and marked her with an X, goosebumps rising on his arms as he felt the heat radiating off her skin.

 

She grinned at him and he ceased whatever was left of his higher brain functions. “Thanks,” she said, moving away and melting into the crowd.

 

“Aw, man,” Kanan breathed as he fruitlessly searched the throng for her. It was all he could do not to follow.

 

His bubble was quickly burst, though, by an older man accompanying a preteen who was hopping from foot to foot.

 

“Excuse me,” the man barked, waving his holo-tickets in Kanan’s face. He was obviously the young girl’s father. Kanan rolled his eyes at his table as he checked the tickets; parents chaperoning minors were worse than the kids themselves.

 

Kanan spent another hour checking people in, but it felt like he’d been standing at the door for ten years. He scowled at the patrons, each one a barrier between him and Hera Syndulla. Finally, just as the opener ended their set, he spotted Skelly.

 

“Took you long enough!” Kanan said, probably too loudly. The two girls standing at his table looked nonplussed with his lack of hospitality.

 

Skelly clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a huge, shit-eating grin. “Sorry, pal--hauling all that stuff backstage took longer than I thought.”

 

But Kanan was already pushing past him and into the concert hall. “If anyone’s looking for me, I’m on break,” he said, not looking back at his co-worker.

 

Inside, the standing-room-only floor was nearly full. Kanan had to elbow his way over to the bar--in crowds this large, it didn’t matter that he was dressed like an employee and wearing a wire. _Half of them are probably already drunk, too_ , he thought.

 

Finally, Kanan came close enough to put his hand on the bartop. The bartender immediately caught his eye and smiled a bit.

 

“The usual, please,” Kanan called.

 

Okadiah gave him a funny little salute before pouring Kanan a draft of Polaris and sliding it across the bar to him. When the cold glass hit his palm, Kanan sighed in pleasure. He took a long swig--

 

\--which he immediately almost spit out, because just to his right was none other than Hera. She was alone, filling a cup with water from one of the pitchers that were available all along the bar. Kanan bowled over a Chadra-Fan to get to her, casually sliding into place at her side.

 

He leaned in just enough for his undertone to be heard: “Madam Senator,” he greeted her, his lips close to her earcone.

 

Hera jumped, sloshing water down her front. She turned to face him, her lekku nearly whipping him in the face. Her furious expression resolved itself into something closer to annoyance.

 

Kanan gulped and ran a hand over his hair. Her green gaze was piercing. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

 

“What?” Hera shouted.

 

“I said I’m sorry!” Kanan said more loudly. He bit back a groan that she might not have been able to hear anyway. _Well, Jarrus, this is going fantastic._ He cleared his throat. “Having fun?”

 

“Something like that,” she fairly shouted. The buzzing of the crowd combined with the volume of the opening act mights have blown her earcones out. She hesitated before she added, “This isn’t usually my scene.”

 

“Yeah? Then what is?”

 

Hera arched one shapely eyebrow at him. “Somewhere quieter,” she said. “With less obnoxious music.”

 

Kanan laughed out loud. “Really? But you’re so clearly the teeny-bopper type!”

 

Hera looked down at her outfit--which made Kanan look down at it, too, before he quickly looked back up _with absolutely zero thoughts of all the straps on her top lingering in his mind_ \--then back up at him. Her lips curled into the first real smile he’d ever seen on her face. His stomach felt like it was being dropped from a very high lift, and he took a gulp of beer to mask whatever his expression might be.

 

“I’m really not,” she said, grinning now.

 

Kanan shifted just a little closer to her. Hera raised her other eyebrow, but didn’t back away from him.

 

“Then what type are you?” he asked.

 

Hera shook her head, but the tips of her lekku were curled in amusement. “Decidedly _not_ a pop fan.” She licked her lips, and Kanan followed her tongue. “My tastes tend toward moody.”

 

Kanan blinked. “Indie girl, huh?”

 

Hera’s cheeks flushed a slightly darker green. “What about you? Get a kick out of shows like this?”

 

“Hell no,” Kanan said, maybe a little too quickly. Hera laughed then, and the sound send a shiver down Kanan’s spine in spite of how hot the room was. He debated with himself for a moment before he confessed, “Punk.”

 

Hera pressed the fingers of one hand to her temple. “ _Really?_ ” She gave him an appraising look, glancing up and down his body. “I should have guessed.”

 

Heat slid up Kanan’s neck and into his face. “Hey now, I have taste! The classics are great!”

 

“Oh, no,” Hera said, rocking back on her heels and smiling widely. “How old are you exactly?”

 

“I’m not that old!” Kanan protested. He felt like he was sliding down a hill and gaining momentum fast. _This girl is something else._

 

Hera said nothing, just sipped her water.

 

“How old are _you_? Not legal, obviously,” he said, gesturing at her X-marked hand.

 

Hera smirked. “Checking to see whether I’m _exactly_ your type?”

 

Kanan’s jaw hung open in shock. With great effort, he tried to force some kind of defense out of himself, but instead he just sputtered.

 

Hera threw her head back and laughed at him, long and loud, and in spite of himself he followed the line of her neck with his eyes. It made him feel better about the tears streaming from her eyes, which she wiped away with the heels of her palms.

 

“I’m s-sorry,” she said, struggling to get herself under control.

 

“Uh huh,” Kanan said. He drained half his beer in one go.

 

“I’m legal on most systems, and later this year, I’ll be legal on all of them,” she said finally. “But for now, I’m twenty.”

 

Kanan nodded, then shook his head. “You’re a real trip,” he said, mostly to himself. Finally, he stuck his hand out. “Kanan Jarrus.”

 

Hera had a good grip. She smiled at him again, pure happiness. “Pleased to meet you. Been working here long?”

 

“Three years,” Kanan said. “Did odd jobs before that. But none of them got me free live music.”

 

“Quite the deal,” she said.

 

“And you?”

 

Hera wrinkled her nose. “I’ll be done with school in the spring.”

 

Kanan tipped his glass at her, although it was more foam than beer now. “Graduating early? Cheers to you.”

 

“I’m in an accelerated program.”

 

“For?”

 

“Elite flight,” she said. And then she gave him a grin so wicked that, once his brain had processed it, went straight to his groin.

 

“You’re kidding,” he said, voice flat.

 

“What, don’t believe me?” Hera poured herself more water.

 

“No, no, of course I do,” Kanan said. He looked up, his eyes searching desperately for Okadiah. He needed another beer. “Just--uh--you know, that’s such a hard track.”

 

“It is,” Hera said, mischief in her eyes.

 

“Well, color me impressed.”

 

“Yeah? What did you do in school?”

 

Kanan snorted. “College wasn’t for me.”

 

Hera shifted her weight and bit her lip. “Ah.”

 

Kanan shrugged. He’d finally waved down Okadiah, who was pouring him another, and had missed her awkward movement. “It’s not a big deal.” As he caught his second beer, Kanan added, “Made more space for geniuses like you.”

 

Hera gave a short laugh. “Wish my father saw it that way.” Her voice was so soft that he almost didn’t hear her, but when she looked up at him, something in his expression must have told her he had, because she looked stricken. “Not that--I mean--”

 

Kanan sliced his hand through the air to cut her off. “Don’t worry about it. You’re not gonna see this all over the Coruscant tabloids tomorrow.”

 

Hera’s shoulders sagged. “Thanks.”

 

“You’re an interesting girl,” he said, cocking his head at her.

 

“‘Interesting’? That’s your description?”

 

“Any more descriptive and you might accuse me of trolling for jailbait again.”

 

Hera leaned her arms on the counter and bumped Kanan’s chest with her shoulder. She was smiling. “All right, you’re clearly not,” she said. She traced scratches in the durasteel as she said. “So then how’d you describe me?”

 

“You’re amazing.”

 

“Do you tell that to all the girls?”

 

His voice was hoarse as he said, “No.” The honesty made even Kanan cringe.

 

Hera froze. Slowly, slowly, she turned her head to look up at him, her lekku shifting across her back. Kanan swallowed thickly.

 

“Any chance we could ever get to know each other in a quieter place sometime?” he asked.

 

“I think you’re getting me mixed up with some other kind of girl,” she said, but her expression was still open, curious.

 

“I’m really not,” Kanan insisted. “Look, I’m no senator’s kid, but--”

 

But at that moment, the lights went down, and Bright Star began to play. Kanan looked over at the stage for a second, but when he looked back, Hera was gone.

 

 _Ah, fuck._ He’d never find her in this crowd.

 

Kanan let out a frustrated groan as he walked back out toward the doors, disgusted with the universe. He loosened and then re-tied his ponytail for lack of anything better to do.

 

“What’s up with you?” Skelly asked as Kanan approached.

 

“What?”

 

“You look like someone killed your tooka.”

 

“Ha ha,” Kanan deadpanned. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

He deflected Skelly’s next volley of questions, after which both of them gave up to half-listen to the noise coming from the concert hall.

 

The next hour and a half was interminable. Kanan ignored Skelly in favor of running through various prep checklists for tomorrow night’s show. Mostly, he wanted to go back to his one-room apartment, open up a bottle of cheap Corellian whiskey, and pass out face-down on his bed.

 

Finally, Bright Star’s set ended. Kanan’s ears rang as the audience streamed toward the exits. He stood on his toes, looking everywhere for Hera, but there were just too many people, all packed together and in motion.

 

As the stragglers left The Supernova, no green Twi’lek in sight, Kanan wandered over to the bar, which Okadiah was cleaning with an old rag.

 

“One more for the road?” the older man asked Kanan.

 

“Might as well,” Kanan said, leaning up against the counter. He watched, not really seeing, as Okadiah poured him another beer, and he picked the glass up mechanically and drank.

 

“Oh,” Okadiah said, straightening up suddenly. Kanan cocked an eyebrow at him as he fished around in his pockets. Finally, he produced a wrinkled napkin, which he thrust at Kanan. “For you.”

 

“What is this?” Kanan took the napkin and smoothed it out on the bar. When he’d deciphered the messy handwriting a moment later, he began laughing.

 

_Caf? Dex’s Diner, Coruscant_

 

The words were followed by a HoloNet number. He looked up at Okadiah, disbelieving. “How did you…?”

 

“Handed it to me as she left,” Okadiah said, shrugging, but there was a gleam in his eye. He wagged his finger at Kanan. “That girl’s special. Don’t--”

 

“Kriff it up? Yeah, got that,” Kanan said, reverently folding the napkin and putting it in his own pocket.

 

As he left The Supernova, he bounced on his feet, breathing in the cool night air. Maybe he’d have water when he got home. Yes, water sounded good.


End file.
